devil may care
by Suk-fong
Summary: I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.


Perhaps this is what life is.

He disobeys order to save his sister. He breaks his promise to his parents to protect his vow to his wife.

Is there anything honourable left in this body?

Or has he become as disorderly and savage as this bloodthirsty brute beside him?

No. He hasn't sunk that low.

But they are standing over this corpse and he has never had a sense of comradely like this before.

The brute speaks and he ignores him until they have to go back, and he can't ignore him any longer; because the brute is such a savage all he knows how to do is to swing a nameless sword around, he doesn't know the simple kidou that's used to get make to Soul Society.

How sad and pathetic.

He detests the brute but chance and circumstance, as both are captains of the Gotei 13, have forced him to work near the brute as they fight a common enemy.

Childish perhaps, but he can't bring himself to say that he's worked with the brute. Hisana always said he holds grudges.

Though he doesn't really have a grudge with the brute; just simple distaste for the way he takes joy in the fight, wanting only to be the strongest, slaughtering any and everyone who stands in his way.

Such juvenile antics by a tall man is unseemly.

They work well together, the brute's bloodlust and love for battle just underline his skill for brawling, and his versatility and strategy compliment each other.

A natural team, and as such they are sent to dispatch threats together.

So they fight near to each other bonded by blood loss, indifference and colour curse words from the brute with the bells.

He comes home and looks at her picture after every mission. The picture does not do her justice. A beautiful woman, but it shows nothing of her sparkle, or her ability to make him wish to forgo duty for a day and run around like a commoner.

"_The flowers are late to bloom this year."_

"_I only wish I can see them blossom."_

Her words echo and he sees her walk the halls.

Those are the nights he takes the brute's offer to brawl.

Like he has no dignity, and no pride. He fights dirty, and cheap. Low grade tricks and hits below the belt are what destroys various , training fields. It's one hundred and fifty to one hundred and fifty one. He can't stop the idea that bloody knuckles hit harden bone brings euphonic relief.

Maybe he's just delusional.

He throws himself head first into his duties as captain and he knows that he is at his best, only when Hisana was beside him, holding him, loving him, poking him to oblivion with her love of the odd rabbit mascot has he been better.

But he can't be with Hisana anymore. He can't be the better than what he is.

But he can be better then the brute. He whose body is just a collection of tattoos of battles won that he walked away from.

He will be better.

So he pushes this body of honour and nobility to the brink until he collapses and dreams of the blossoms that never opened in time for her.

He is painted in regrets of only one sin. Of loving a woman and never being able to protect her.

He wakes up and the brute is standing over him. He collapsed in front of the brute on the way back to Soul Society.

He gives him a drink and he leaves.

Perhaps this is a test, as he returns to the training fields repaired and destroyed countless times in their battles. Maybe he can find out why his Vice Captain tells him he's different when he's bruised and broken from his brawls with the brute. Maybe he can find out why everything seems so much easier to deal with when he's breaking his arm.

It's during a brawl when he's gotten a black eye and the brute has his thigh bone sticking out of his skin when he realizes it.

This is the brute, the sum of all his parts, made up of flaws that he embraces. His regrets are feather light etching on his soul, unlike his own which mar and scar and heal badly so his soul is unrecognizable to anyone but him.

The brute is living for himself, no one else but him with no pretence.

He's free.

And it's not distaste he feels, but jealousy.

Jealousy that the brute who swings and murders like breathing, has what he wants the most.

The freedom to be with the woman he loves. To be happy, to not fight.

To smile.

When he asks the brute looks at him like he's a fool.

'Regrets are a waste. You can't change it all. You're alive, lucky. Fight until you die and when you die.'

* * *

A/N: So this isn't the crack fic I thought I would have written when I was talking to the British birdie. But ya know…I think I like this better. Sorry if they seem out of character. I'm trying to branch out. Aaannnd to my favourite Aussie. It's canon world babe! Even if it's not the exact same world….well kinda. Ba and Ken should be bffs right?


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